The Quail and the Mermaid

Enchanted

By Luna LarkQuailBellMagazine.com

My ship sails waters gleaming blueWaters that reflect symmetrical youWith every wave so gracefully sereneMy pure fondness of you grows amply keenAnd as the gulls melt into a sky so profoundI suddenly feel as if my heart has been boundTo only one creature who has ever breathedIt is you who has enchanted me, I’ve always believed

_The Tale Of Mr. Rêvus

Eyes Like Emerald

By Connor LudovissyQuailBellMagazine.com

_Harry looked out over the ocean for the thousandth time. How long had it been since the world ended? How long since that fateful day when everyone was consumed by flame? Everyone else, anyway. He sat on the beach, letting the waves wash over him. Inch by inch he sunk into the sand, as if the Earth was trying to swallow up the one that got away.

“You’re not getting me,” he muttered, rising to his feet and brushing off his khakis. That’s what he had worn every day now for a long, long time –khaki pants, plus a short-sleeved dress shirt. As a young lawyer in San Francisco, he had always enjoyed dressing up. Of course, with everyone else gone, there wasn’t much of a point to it –but he did it anyway. It gave him a sense of familiarity in the unfamiliar world he inhabited.

Charlotte, his wife, tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. “Honey,where are you going? You always spend your morning on the beach,” she said. Harry smiled weakly and ran his fingers through her long, blonde hair. She was the very picture of beauty and innocence.

“I have something to do,” he said. He looked into her sparkling green eyes. He used to get lost in those eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t be long.” He walked up the porch steps to the back door and turned to look at the ocean one last time. Now,Charlotte and the boys were swimming. An instant later, she was teaching them to ride their bikes on the sand. Harry blinked and they were gone. He closed his eyes tight and fought back the tears.

He had rehearsed it countless times. It was practically impossible to screw up. He sat on the couch in the living room, staring out the front window and holding the Walther PPK to his chin. All he had to do was pull the trigger, and it would all be over. Simple as that. That’s all he had to do. It was simple, really –the only thing he had todo was squeeze the trigger, and-